


repeat the sounding joy

by openended



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Christmas, Community: sj_everyday, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam often wonders why her three year-old son grasps a simple concept that career Air Force officers cannot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	repeat the sounding joy

When Daniel makes a remark about traditional role reversal, Jack kicks him out. He’s perfectly capable of waiting for Sam to get home _without_ anyone commenting that when they got married, he became Mr. Samantha Carter. He doesn’t mind – quite the opposite – but it’s one of those things that he has to be in the right mood to find funny if it doesn’t come directly from Sam.

10:15 at night on Christmas Eve, with both kids refusing to sleep on account of Santa Claus and sugar, and Sam stuck at the base dealing with some interplanetary crisis is about as far from the right mood as you can get.

He sends Daniel home with a plate of cookies and a promise to see him in the morning. Jack lingers on the porch just long enough to make sure that Daniel doesn’t slip on the way to his car and then shuts and locks the door. With a deep breath, he turns around to face two small children looking up at him expectantly.

“You guys know how Santa works,” Jack says, slowly walking them back to the living room, “he doesn’t come if you’re awake.” Which is more true than they know: Sam’s the one who did all the _from Santa_ wrapping and Jack has no clue where she hid the gifts; he needs his children to go to bed before he can make that phone call.

Miranda covers a yawn. “But I’m not tired!”

Luke nods in emphatic agreement with his older sister, though he did fall asleep on Daniel’s lap for a while. Daniel told him it would be their secret. “When’s Mommy coming home?” He rubs a fist in his eye, the other hand holding tight to a green blanket.

“Soon,” Jack repeats the answer he’s given them ever since Sam abruptly left midway through dinner. He settles both kids on the couch with another round of _A Muppet Family Christmas_ and sits down at the kitchen table to finish some last-minute wrapping.

If he never has to hear _be careful of the icy patch_ again, he thinks it’ll be too soon.

* * *

Sam officially gives up the pretense of being civil at 10:48. “Gentlemen,” she holds up a hand, interrupting one of the ambassadors and his pompous discussion on religious sacrilege, “if I assure you that Major Jeffries will never touch anything on your planet ever again, and order him to make an official in-person public apology upon returning to your capital city, will that suffice?”

The two ambassadors on Sam’s screen look at each other and nod in unison before the senior ambassador speaks. “Yes, General Carter. An assurance that Major Jeffries – and any other members of your military – will not touch objects of whose purpose they are not aware while on our planet, _and_ the promise of a public apology for so offending our gods by Major Jeffries will alleviate any frictions between our two planets.”

“Fantastic,” Sam says, a little more harshly than she intends but she decides that being a bit snappish is okay, considering that she managed to avoid banging her head against the desk while on screen. “SG-17 is scheduled to return to your planet in two days’ time. You will have your apology and if Doctor McKenna has to tie Major Jeffries’ hands behind his back to prevent further incidents of this nature, she has my permission to do so. Have a good day, Ambassadors.”

The computer screen goes blank as the gate shuts down. Sam clears her throat and exits her office and nearly stumbles over Major Jeffries and Doctor McKenna, waiting for her outside. “You,” she points at the major, “do not touch things. Your decision to move a bunch of alien action figures around resulted in I don’t know how many millions of dollars dialing the gate every thirty-eight minutes for _four and a half hours_ because the Lhysi were so peeved they didn’t want to talk face to face, and nearly cost us the most reliable source of naquadah since the Ephaan backed out of their deal. _Stop touching things._ You are not five years old, keep your hands to yourself, do you understand me?”

Major Jeffries snaps to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Next time you are on Lhys, you are going to stand in the middle of their capital city and publicly apologize to their gods and everyone else who was offended.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Go.” She watches as Jeffries tries to hold back a sprint, at least until he’s out of her eyesight. She normally wouldn’t be so harsh, but it’s Christmas Eve and this isn’t the first time Jeffries has done something idiotic offworld, and _Don't Touch Anything_ has been Rule Number One at the SGC for ten years now so he really ought to know better. She turns to Doctor McKenna. “I know Jeffries is technically in charge of your team, but do whatever you have to to make sure that he apologizes and that he doesn’t touch anything. If you and the other members of your team have to knock him down and tie his hands behind his back, go for it.”

McKenna laughs. “Don’t worry, we will. I’m sorry you had to deal with this tonight.”

Sam shrugs, feeling her frustration melt away as she realizes that she might actually make it home before it’s officially Christmas. “Part of the job,” she says. “Merry Christmas, Doctor.”

“Merry Christmas, General.”

* * *

Both kids crash at 11:30. Jack half-wishes that he hadn’t sent Daniel home; it’s hard enough getting one sleepy child to brush their teeth, not to mention two. With enough convincing, and countless promises that Santa _hasn’t_ skipped their house, Jack feels triumphant when both children are ready for bed without any tears. But soon as Luke mumbles “can I sleep with you,” Miranda starts that if Luke gets to sleep in the big bed, she should get to sleep in the big bed too and just as Jack’s about to point out that that’s not the way the argument’s supposed to work, she reminds him that it’s Christmas.

While he might not understand what the holiday has to do with who sleeps where, he definitely understands that it’s something that you don’t argue with. After a detour into each of the kid’s rooms to pick up stuffed animals, he carries his son into his and Sam’s bedroom while his daughter sleepily drags her feet on the carpet behind him.

Luke’s already fast asleep when Jack pulls the comforter up around his shoulders, no doubt dreaming of dinosaurs instead of sugarplums. Miranda climbs into the bed, now big enough to do it without any help, but she pouts when her feet get caught in the blankets. Jack easily untangles her feet and smiles as she digs deeper into the covers until only her nose and the top of her head are visible, just like her mother likes to sleep.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to their foreheads.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” Miranda mumbles sleepily, her stuffed pig grasped tightly in her arms as she turns on her side.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo.” He tucks the blankets around them as best he can while leaving room to climb in next to them in a few minutes, and turns out the lights. He leaves the master bathroom door ajar so the nightlight can filter through.

Once in the hallway, he pulls out his cell phone and calls Sam. She doesn’t answer her cell phone nor her office phone and he assumes she’s still eyeball-deep in whatever crisis pulled her away from dinner. He yawns and scribbles her a note to leave on the kitchen table and turns off all the lights except for the Christmas tree.

Jack pauses on his way back his bedroom, his attention caught by the tree. He takes a few steps backward to study it. Sam spent hours meticulously hanging the lights, and the effort shows. Glittering white lights reflect off of ornaments new and old, some even brought back from other planets. Popsicle stick reindeer and cotton ball snowmen hang with pride in the front of the tree. He still thinks they should have placed the particularly hideous star – outlined in gold tinsel and lit by multicolored lights, obviously a relic from the seventies and discovered while exploring the basement of the Minnesota cabin last year – on the top of the tree, but Sam and Miranda had overruled. A simple silver and white star sits on top instead, and he does admit that it looks better.

He’s tempted to poke around in the gift pile, but a yawn stops him and he continues on his way to bed.

* * *

Thanks to an accident taking up a full highway lane, it’s well past one in the morning when Sam finally turns off her car in the garage. She’s not surprised that most of the lights are off; they’ve long learned to not bother waiting up for each other. As soon as she steps inside, she’s hit with a wave of exhaustion; her body recognizing that it’s home and that it’s okay to be tired now. Her cell phone vibrates, alerting her to a message from a few hours ago, and she glares at it; returning Jack’s call now won’t do anything besides wake everyone up.

She manages to hang up her coat and line up her boots with everyone else’s and she’s about to turn off the Christmas tree and go to bed when she spies the note.

 _Sam –_

 _No idea where the From Santa gifts ended up and M &L wouldn’t go to bed in enough time for me to look for them. :(_

 _Hope the world didn’t explode,  
Jack_

“Where they are _every_ year,” Sam says to the piece of paper before crumpling it into the garbage. She goes to the sink and splashes some cold water on her face to wake herself up just enough to dig in her office closet for the wrapped gifts she’s kept carefully hidden from her children (and husband, apparently). Once the last presents are underneath the tree, she leans back on her heels to admire the view. Snow’s beginning to fall outside and the white lights on the tree are the only source of illumination in the house.

She yawns and it takes a few minutes to convince herself that going to bed is the better idea than sleeping on the couch. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth in the kids’ bathroom in the hallway; they’ve kept a spare set of everything for both her and Jack underneath the sink for exactly this reason. She thinks she smells like the SGC – three parts recycled air, two parts coffee, and one part general weirdness – but she’s pretty sure she’d fall asleep in the shower, so she saves that for the morning.

Blinking, she stops in the doorway to her bedroom. She smiles and watches the three of them sleep, Jack in the middle with an arm around each child curled up with their heads on his chest.

* * *

Jack’s only been dozing and he opens his eyes when he hears the creak in the floor, signaling that Sam’s standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey yourself.”

“Galactic peace still intact?”

Sam rolls her eyes and lifts the covers. She’s perfected the art of getting into bed without waking whichever child might be in the way. “Someone touched something they shouldn’t have. Nothing a public apology won’t fix.” Luke senses her presence in his sleep and turns to cuddle into her side. She presses a kiss to his cheek and curls her arm around him, careful not to jostle him too much. She often wonders why her three year-old son grasps a simple concept that career Air Force officers cannot. Luke sighs and tucks his head under her chin and she smiles, feeling herself start to relax.

Jack chuckles quietly; he may not deal with the day-to-day runnings of the SGC anymore, but he certainly knows how many offworld debacles could be avoided if everyone kept their hands in their pockets. “Ten days,” he says.

Sam grins widely in the moonlight; to say that getting ten consecutive days of vacation approved was difficult would be the understatement of the century, but eventually the President stepped in and told her that as long as she brought a cell phone and kept it on and charged at all times, she could have her ten days. She left the base with strict orders that no one is to bother her unless someone who has a chance of success is actively trying to invade or destroy Earth. They leave for Minnesota the day after Christmas.

She reaches out and brushes Miranda’s cheek with her thumb, tucking a strand of white blonde hair behind the girl’s ear. Miranda mumbles in her sleep and fusses for a moment before settling again.

Jack catches Sam’s hand and laces his fingers through hers. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

Sam kisses her husband softly. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”


End file.
